And The Lord Looked In Favor
by wingedsilverfang222
Summary: Upon Abel and his offering, but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor - Genesis 4 - Drabbles - abstract timeline
1. chapter 1

Boy didn't remember much before the initiation.

He was number 37 - age 5 with no living family. That was all he needed to know.

He would be given a name if he survived.

It was simple, those were the rules and he had never really known any different - had never _needed_ to know any different.

His handler wore a mask and a cloak, they had no need for identity, so immersed in the deceit as they were.

To begin with, in between his education and the conditioning, 37 liked to imagine what his trainer looked like beneath the layers of cumbersome clothing.

He soon learned that such a fancy was redundant.

It was not an enjoyable lesson.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

At age 8 he was given his first assignment.

The target was a religious man, the brother of a vicar, and deeply enamoured with the idealism of God and Heaven.

The client had requested that the man die in the place he loved the most: the church itself.

The building itself was quaint.

Old stone and gothic splendor alongside towering arched windows of stained glass. It towered above him, proudly declaring humanities' blind faith to the world around it. Young children ran amongst their gossiping parents at the front of the structure and passersbys spared a moment to glance in reverence at the mighty walls of the building, each further indoctrinated in the grandeur of the false illusion than the previous.

Stood in the shadows of a nearby alcove 37 felt the stirring of an intense emotion that he had, previously, only experienced within his first lessons - before he had learned what was better for him.

 _Disgust_.

It churned and raged, a maelstrom of uncontrollable malevolence focused in all of its entirety on the brittle concept that was _God_. It carried no forewarning and no reasoning even as it settled, a growling weight at the pit of his stomach.

And 37 was filled with an unavoidable need to kill.

It should have scared him. Filled him with dread. Traumatised the small glimmer of humanity that still remained buried within him.

Instead, Boy number 37 smiled.

The mission was fulfilled but two men died that night. The bother of a vicar and the vicar himself.

37 was punished for the extra casualty.

37 couldn't quite find it in himself to care.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

They gave him a name.

He liked the name Cain.


	2. Chapter 2

Cain often dreamed.

He wasn't supposed to - it was considered a hindrance to his performance, a distraction, to lose himself whilst in the throes of illusions. Personally he didn't see the problem with it ( it want like he couldn't wake up and slash any intruders throat )

The dreams confused him. There was no clarity to them, no meaning and no link to the life he held and remembered.

It struck him as unusual, he expected to have nightmares: of the people he killed, of the lives he ruined, of the people he left alone and grieving and broken. He never did.

Instead he dreamed of fire and blood and golden eyes.

And a face.

In his reverie he sees a clown. A grotesque caricature of a gentleman with a perverse and fiendish grin that bears uncomfortably close to a leer.

Again and again Cain watches as the man laughs and laughs and laughs. His features never changing and the grin never sliding from the mouth of his ashen gray face.

Cain wants to feel afraid, wants to be terrified of this demon bearing a somewhat human visage.

Instead he is enraptured.

Captivated.

Enthralled.

The dreams don't stop.

Cain doesn't make a lot of effort to stop them though.

(Soon. Soon. Soon you will return to our midst young one.)


	3. Chapter 3

When Cain is 14 he is sent on a mission. This in itself is not a particularly abnormal occurrence.

He is joined by one of the speakers - individuals carefully cultivated by the organisation to represent the less vocal members on their assignments. Cain doesn't know the man's name. The man doesn't ask for his.

They are to visit the circus.

To a bystander they must have seemed odd, Cain muses as he easily keeps pace with the long strides of his companion, or maybe not. The organisation always goes to dramatic and painful lengths to avoid detection by the general public and law enforcement. Not that either could have done anything about them. He supposed it was just the way things were, a way to avoid unnecessary stress of you will.

As such his speaker is dressed as a middle class gentleman, top hat pulled down so the brim shadowed his eyes and shoes shined until they sparkled as only the finest of diamonds do.

In comparison, Cain is dressed as a simple apprentice in loose and worn cloth as well as a deep red scarf that trails down his back to ward against the biting London winds.

He rather likes the scarf. It's comfortable.

No expense is spared for even this small walk from the carriage to meet with the owner of the circus.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

Cain does not protest to being asked to wait outside. He was expecting it to be quite honest. After all, in the view of the ringmaster he is, at the very most, an apprentice of the speaker. The client does not know the truth.

The client does not need to know the truth.

"Ya with tha' bloke that just wen' in are ya?"

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

The circus boy (named Red - for his hair apparently) is coarse and rough but the sharp gleam of intelligence within his ashen eyes is undeniable.

He speaks with a heavy London accent and seemed unsure of communicating with someone his own age, holding his shoulders back defensively as though expecting to be beaten.

Upon realising that the two adults would be talking 'business' for a while the circus boy places the ringleader's dinner, which he had been told to deliver to the man, to the side and moved to lean against one of the nearby support beams.

The redhead pays no attention to the rapidly cooling stew,

("The bastard's fat enough as it is,") instead levelling calculating grey on Cain.

For his part Cain doesn't move from where he is sitting on a wooden crate, returning the heavy gaze with one of his own.

It is rather strange really because if asked later Cain wouldn't be able to recall who began the conversation, just that it did begin and by the time the speaker returns - with a suspicious briefcase and a farewell to the generous ringleader - the two boys were in a heated debate on which weapon was best to slit a man's throat with. A rather morbid conversation for two children to be having, but entertaining none the less.

When the speaker returns, Cain instantly falls silent and tilts his head in question, the man gives a brief nod and Cain slides off of the crate to stand.

"Will ya be back," It was a statement, not a question.

Cain turned slightly (beside him the speaker waits patiently - long used to the eccentricities of organisation assassins) and raises an eyebrow. "Does your leader have a lot of enemies?" He asks casually, the corner of his lips upturning slightly into a mockery of a smile.

The circus boy simply smirks back at him before turning around and heading towards the big tent standing about ten metres behind them, he doesn't stop and only offers a brief wave over his shoulder, "I'll see ya next week then!"

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

Cain returned to the circus five times within that next year, the ringmaster apparently had a lot of enemies and just as much swindled money to afford to employ the organisation.

The speaker remained the same for each visit and the client never actually realised who was killing off his enemies.

Red spoke with him every time, a sort of recurring event that both enjoyed. For them it was a step away from the cold hard reality of their situations.

The ringmaster's final request and Cain's final visit to the circus met with little fanfare. Save one, imperative difference.

 _Red was **gone**_ , off on a journey with a mad clown. Supposedly happier now that the shackles that had bound him to the circus were gone.

Cain tells himself he didn't care.

(He tried not to think of what could have been. It hurt. )

(He kept the scarf (it was the colour of _his_ hair) it was confortable)


	4. Chapter 4

(Another year passes from his last visit to the circus.)

Cain is 16; small, lithe and deceptively innocent. Yet undeniably just as deadly as anyone else in the organisation.

He realizes one day, for no particular reason, that he is the last left of the fifty children indoctrinated into the organisation at the same time as him.

He doesn't remember any particulars of the others - personalities and such - but he knows how every one of them died.

Boy number 1 caught hypothermia after being thrown into a sewage filled London river, no expense was to be paid for his recovery. He was put down, he got off lightly.

Boy number 17 was greedy - a useless and unneeded quality in their blurred world - and wanted to impress his handler, he bit of more than he could chew. The only reward he received was a bullet through the brain from his supposedly defenseless target.

Girl number 22 underestimated her target's bodyguards and ended up six feet under. Metaphorically, of course, her body was left rotting and broken for the crows and homeless.

Boy number 38 got cold feet. He returned from his second mission with nothing but a concussion and three broken ribs to show as a prize. His handler was the one to take care of him.

Boy number 50 tried to run away. His death wasn't quick.

Cain remembers every single one of them, not out of sentiment, but out of need.

He knew from the start that he was the lowest on the food chain and was certain that unless a miracle happened that wasn't going to change. So he watched, he observed and he calculated.

Any mistake made by the others was stored away and capitalised upon when the time was right. If 16 had missed the main artery in his target's neck then Cain's blade would hit the dead centre of his victim's pulsing throat. It takes 29 a week to kill two? A week later Cain returns with four heads to present to his handler.

And it works.

He rises, torn and bleeding and dragging chains of iron that once forced him to his knees. He survives. ( They don't )

He doesn't mourn.

At 16 Cain is a killer, the lowest of the low, broken and shattered into something that isn't right, isn't quite human.

He's actually rather proud of himself.

(Anything you can do. I can (will) do better)


	5. Chapter 5

He's 12 years old.

A child seeped in slowly clotting blood and hatred.

He's scared. So scared. So scared. So scared.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

The fear is paralyzing: a deadly poison penetrating his lungs with its serrated incisors. Sharp-edged talons clutch and tear into the soft muscle of his heart and venom surges through his veins burning and scalding and it hurts. The power that this toxin holds over him is unbearable, it encompasses his entirety even as it's coils tighten and he is constricted by hot scales that ration his already limited air supply. _He can't breathe._

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

The monster that looms above him is like nothing he has never seen before. A bulbous and pulsating abomination of metal and flesh. At its front is a false image. A distorted, nauseating likeness to a human face with a mouth stretched into a horrific grimance. It's eyes are wide and bloodshot, darting from side to side, up and down, never quite focusing on him - even as he feels the pressure of its full attention resting upon him.

[ He doesn't wasn't to die. ]

The once bustling street is empty now, all that remains behind are discarded clothes and piles of dust where there once stood humans. In a strange way it's a reminder to him, of the fleeting and impossible nature of life.

He is the only one left now, crouched low to the ground with his back against the wall. Three metres away lies his knife, apparently useless against this monster as all of his attacks to this point have not affected the creature in the least.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

The nightmare advances toward him, slowly, as if savoring his fear. Cain can understand this, after all he himself is usually the predator. It's not as fun to be the prey.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

A nearby puddle of blood catches his eye and he frowns, it's not the red of a human - a shade he knows so well - instead it is a deep, iniquitous black that is well on its way to transitioning from a liquid to a solid. Surrounding the puddle the pavement is scarred with a pattern of ebony stars.

Movement is unconscious, blood pumping through veins without a second thought and muscle memory guiding his limbs into the forms he knows better than the back of his hand.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

He grasps the dagger in a sweaty palm and maneuvers it so that the knife is facing downwards, within a second he carefully loosens his grip so that the blade is partially submerged in the atramentous liquid.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

He turns.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

The knife slides through muscle, flesh and metal.

[ He doesn't want to die. ]

It's a clean incision, a neat cut that travels through the entirety of the demon, any less would be shameful for someone like him.

[ **I don't want to die** ]

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

He keeps the dagger, as a reminder.

Now that he has beholden the monster concealed within human flesh and bone he realises that there is much more to the world than even he had realised.

It annoys him.

To plan a kill one has to know everything. The setting, people involved, time, place, how the client wishes for the victim to die. It is imperative for an assassin to hold all of the cards, to know that he is missing half of the deck?

Cain is annoyed.

So he sets his cards to one side and shuffles a new pack, careful this time not to drop a single card whether it be a hidden ace or a sly joker he cannot afford to omit a single drop of knowledge. Because that one drop could be the difference between life and death.


	6. Story Time Part One

" Tell me a story!"

It was a demand, not befitting of its owner nor the individual it was aimed toward but the said individual simple gave a warm smile and proceeded to relax within his chair. He raised his eyebrow, " Is there any tale in particular you'd like to here?" He asked and received a simple shrug in return.

" Well then. You know of God? So you also know of Adam and Eve I suppose?" The girl nodded rapidly, running around the long table so as to jump into the man's lap and curl up against him like a particularly pleased feline.

" Then let me tell you the story of the two brothers.

Their names were Cain and Abel, born of the mother of men - Eve - in that same order.

To begin with the brothers were incredibly close, together they would run through the fields and gardens and hunt alongside the animals. They understood and treasured the miracles that their lord had created.

Upon growing, each of them, to respectable heights, the two brothers decided that over the course of ten years they would arrange a series of offerings to give to God - a way of showing their admiration and appreciation for the creator.

Now Abel kept flocks and Cain worked the fields, the two of them determined to create the best and most beautiful of offerings to give to their true father.

One day, at the end of the first year, Abel grew curious. His flocks were well and watered and his produce was fine but still he wondered, how was his brother doing? Cain, meanwhile, had realised that raising his crops took time and patience. Whilst his crops grew and matured the man ventured into the forests to hunt and father the natural gifts offered to him.

Upon arriving at his brothers fields Abel was amazed. Far and wide did the crops spread, verdant green and vibrant red, the fields were alive. And Abel was jealous.

(It was at that moment that Abel reached the crossroads)

Abel loved his brother, he really did, and he at all people realised that God would appreciate both of their gifts. But onward the doubt crept and slowly a devious plan began to form.

(Abel chose the wrong path)

A month later, Cain returned. He carried with him the hide of fourteen cows and three bowls of woodland berries. He felt accomplishment and excitement as he raced as fast as possible toward his beloved fields.

But the fields were gone!

Well not quite gone... but a storm had seemingly struck, an unstoppable carnivorous beast that had razed his beloved crops to the ground.

For a minute Cain stood, disbelieving at the peak of a nearby hill, simply watching as the wind whistled across empty grounds, before he turned and ran.

[ "Abel! Abel, my brother!" ]

Cried Cain as he neared his younger brother. Confusion clouding his features Abel turned and asked what was wrong.

[ **Was there a storm? Was there a storm? All my crops have disappeared and nothing had been left behind!"** ]

Cain said, waving his hands and pulling his hair.

[ **Ah you mean the great storm!"** ] replied Abel, [ **O** **h yes, two weeks back an enormous storm came by,"** ] he shook his head sadly [ **"Y** **ou must not have seen it wherever you were,"** ]

In return Cain sighed and nodded before perking up with a new enthusiasm, [ **" it's fine, it's fine!"** ] he smiled [ **" I'll plant some new crops, hopefully these ones will be strong enough to withstand any storm - they should be ready by the end of next year!"** ]

Abel ruffled his brother's hair in response to the enthusiasm before pushing him lightly toward his fields, Cain let him, because well - so much work and so little time! "


	7. Chapter 6

After the first incident, now knowing what to look for, Cain recognises that the monsters in human skin are everywhere.

Stalking stragglers on their way home from the bar.

Snatching children from under their parent's noses at the park.

Lurking within rivers and close to the shore to drag unsuspecting individuals in.

How did he ever miss them?

When he is certain that there is no one in the vicinity, bar himself and one of the abominations, Cain hunts.

He tracks them down and collects their blood which he then places in small glass jars that he keeps on him at all times, he has been caught unawares once - never again. He has to be careful, without fail the machines always self destruct when killed so he chips away at their defences, gradually siphoning off the resources he needs before finishing the job. It's terribly boring when one has been playing with the same machine for a while, like kicking a dead man, but it's effective and the rewards are more than worth it so he continues.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

He is fifteen when he meets his first exorcist, well, it's not really an event that one would typically classify as a meeting. More of a watching from a distance kind of event.

The man is tall - and would more than likely tower over Cain's measly height of five foot two - with long, vibrant crimson hair. Stood on the roof of a building to the man's right Cain can see that he wears a white half mask on the side of his face.

But no, as strange as the man's appearance is - though Cain has most definitely seen worse - the factor of this equation that really gains his attention is the thing standing across from the redhead.

A monster.

The man sighs before a smirk steals all other expression from his face, "OY! Stupid apprentice!" he shouts, glancing behind him, a building blocks Cain's view of said apprentice but he disregards this as he leans closer to hear what the man is about to say.

"Listen closely, 'caus I'm not going to repeat myself, even for an idiot like you," the man reaches into his pocket and draws out a handgun which he then points at the demon. Cain's eyes narrow, he knows - from previous experiences - that guns have no effect on the abominations so why does this man seem so confident?

"I told you before about akuma right?" Questions the man, still ignoring the metal ball, "and you've had personal experience, as we saw with that whole freak out and shit," he casually cocks his gun before levelling it at the slow approaching monster, " well this is what happens when you add a little innocence,"

All is silent save for a single shot of gunfire.

The bullet hits.

The monster falls.

The redhead takes all of this in stride, casual once more as he swings on his heel to supposedly face his apprentice. " Innocence is an anti-akuma weapon that can only be used by an accommodator, the people who house it. It can take the form of a weapon," he gestures to the gun, still smoking and held loose in his grasp, "which is known as being an equipment type. Or as a part of the accommodator, which is known as a parasitic type of innocence. Innocence is a purification tool, if you kill an akuma its soul will be purified and released to the afterlife and all that shit. Get that idiot apprentice?"

Cain leans on the balcony of the roof he rests upon, a frown marrying his features, he has a lot to consider.

Also to factor in is the fact that even standing here, so far away he's beginning to feel a stirring of sorts. He's not quite sure why but prolonging his exposure to this strange man seems to worsen the itch, and he theorizes that should he stay for much longer the itch will become a problem.

He almost likens it to his first encounter with a church.

(But why? What links this man and the church?)

He stands, idly flipping a stray coin over his knuckles, and glances back toward the man.

Who looks right back.

The rooftop is empty before the penny hits the floor, lazily rotating before coming to a sudden sharp stop.

(Cain never realises how close he was to a friend)

(Red never realises how close he was to a friend)


	8. Chapter 7

The organisation has long known that value of information and the people who find it. As such, when training all potentials are required to learn of one art, whether it be music, painting or storytelling it is a requirement.

Cain chose music, learning the basics of several wind instruments but focusing on the flute. For his purposes it is an excellent choice; he can play within small pubs and bars and yet still hear the whispers simply by reducing his volume on, say, a particularly morose piece.

He uses his flute to scavenge for information on innocence, gathering the information through casual queries on any unnatural occurrences or discrepancies within the town or city he is passing through.

If an individual ignores or attempts to throw him off he can almost guarantee that when they return to their tablemate, or when the bar is clear of any non-locals - they will talk.

And he will hear.

Within a month of learning of the mystery substance, giving allowance for a week long job in between, he has somewhere to start.

Exorcists and Finders of the Black Order.

Their names are spoken in whispered awe and soon enough he cannot deny his curiosity. From what he can gather, in comparison to the organisation the exorcists are the assassins and the finders are speakers.

In the organisation speakers are generally trained sparingly - they know the basics obviously - but they are more tools of politics and appearance. Better to approach a client with someone who speaks their language than with someone who barely speaks at all.

Which is useful to him, now all he has to do is catch himself a finder.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

It's laughably easy to lure one in.

It seems that the finders of the Black Order are obligated to respond to even the smallest hint of a possible innocence appearance. The only effort Cain has to put into the charade is planting a few suggestions in the mind of superstitious locals before disposing of his two targets, who happen to reside in the very same town, in a far more grandiose fashion than usual.

Two finders appeared three days later, dressed in loose beige with a pack slung haphazardly over each of their shoulders.

To begin with the two mingle with the locals, questioning and sharing conspiratorial looks. That night one disappears into the town's single hotel and the other turns and begins to hike up the forest trail - supposedly wishing for a closer look.

Perfect.

The most troublesome part of this entire debacle is probably having to haul the man's dead weight to an abandoned warehouse, to wait for his awakening.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

The finder is notably panicked when he wakes up alone and secured to a metal pole.

From his perch in the rafters above Cain finds it hard to contain his mirth as the man immediately looses all pretense of being in control of the situation and instead works himself into a frenzy, hyperventilating even as his eyes dart from one side to another desperately searching. For what? Cain can't claim to know.

But it is funny.

With a knowing smirk Cain lets himself fall, landing in in a crouch directly in front of the man who screams and attempts to scramble back, a ridiculous move if there ever was one.

Cain smiles - it's all teeth.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

The conclusion to the capture of the finder is somewhat dull, Cain muses as he saunters casually away from a burning building, the flames caressing his back with the touch of an old lover.

The finder gave him everything he asked for, and more, so desperate was he for escape. Cain wasn't sure why the man had panicked so much but it was helpful in the end so he was not complaining. It was still somewhat disappointing though, he had many techniques relating to torture that would have been fun to try out.

Honestly he had expected more of a man that was connected in any way to the redhead who had see him. Maybe he will have more luck with an exorcist...

He turns, once, merely a tilt of his head in all honesty, to observe the building behind him. ever critical of his own work.

But the warehouse simply carries on burning merrily, even as the town's people slowly converge like Hyenas on a fallen gazelle.

He barely blinks as he is shouldered aside by a running man who is clothed in loose beige with a pack slung over his shoulder and shouting desperately as if trying to quell the flames. Useless.

For now he has all the information he needs.

In a completely biased phrasing of course.

But still. It is information.

Now what should he do with it?

Information is valuable after all.


	9. Chapter 8

Cain wonders ( he's not supposed to do that either ) sometimes, on the subject of Akuma.

For one, the finder he questioned had never heard of the Akuma's own blood working against them as a weapon.

Then again, as far as the finder boy knew it was ridiculous and suicidal to even consider _trying_ to use the substance.

For a very simple and actually somewhat sensible reason.

After all, the information he gleans off of the finder reveals that the blood of an akuma is poisonous, supposedly killing of regular humans, like Cain himself in seconds and non-parasitic type exorcists in a slightly longer time.

So how exactly can Cain touch it?

He's done it enough times, shattering one of his jars when thrown against a building on a hit, excess spray hitting his face as he disposes of a stray akuma and more, so many more times.

I'm addition to this, according to his finder friend, akuma oil is just as deadly when inhaled.

And yet, somehow...

Never, not once, has he beheld even the slightest hint of a pentagram adorning his pale skin.

It's interesting.

It's an anomaly.

Cain doesn't like anomalies.

He likes being one even less


	10. Chapter 9

The fall of the organisation is sudden, unexpected and ridiculously bloody.

It begins with the death of the founder, of course, this had actually been expected.

It was after all a time of short life expectancies and the _man_ had been seventy-five, positively ancient in retrospect, it was an overall safe prediction to make.

There had actually been numerous countermeasures and guidelines set up, they were assassin's after all and knew better than anyone the power of planning.Yet, unfortunately for the organisation's continued existance, one rule remained absolute.

Only _that man's_ family could inherit the iron throne of sins.

It was assumed that this would be fine, the _man_ had four children, two of which were married with aspiring killers-to-be children themselves.

One should never assume - **_people_ _die_**.

Admittedly the _man_ going senile in his old age and shooting every one of them was not to be expected.

( The pyramid crumbling as the foundations disappear and all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn't get up again )

Cain is somewhat expectant really. There will soon be plenty of jobs for the taking, he predicts, with such a power vacuum being opened.

Those whom figured that they personally had potential would be raring tl go and practically biting at the bit.

Desperate to earn and to profit from the fall of the infamous organisation.

Because despite the organisation's desperate wishes. **Everyone** knows about them and **everyone** knew of them. It was never the secret they desperately longed it to be.

Cain hangs around London at the time of the grand collapse, content with watching from a distance as pandemonium reigns and chaos shakes the riverbeds. The mayhem is delightful.

( He does notice another watching from afar though, a short man wearing a strange foreign assemble and eyes decorated with deep bags. He doesn't seem to enjoy the chaos though. He simply observes )

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

Freedom isn't really that different from imprisonment for Cain.

He eats the same food and walks the same roads and takes the same jobs.

He doesn't bother with changing profession.

Because something has changed.

He's happy where he is, gains excitement now - with his jobs - rather than enduring the monotony of reporting back to his handler after every single job.

Information isn't handed to him on a golden platter, for once he has to reach for it, physically stretch to meet that line and it's addicting. The rush and the thrill is back and sometimes it's enough to make him feel intoxicated and delirious and just plain drunk.

And now he has the ability to take time away from his main employment and research, test out different attributes of the akuma blood. Search for innocence or maybe even a stray exorcist or two. He is no longer confined by those constricting boundaries and it's somewhat nice to breathe.

Cain is free now: damn if he isn't going to savor it.

( It's not like be could ever fit in with normal society anyway )


	11. Chapter 10

Cain watches from a distance as the exorcist screams.

Contrary to what he originally believed upon coming across the man these screams are not of fear, instead the man's voices is besieged by sorrow and regret. It seems that the man, at this point, accepts what death entails but still carries regrets. Maybe he has family, friends, a lover? Cain, having never experienced bonds like these, is not sure he understands.

Narrowing his eyes Cain glances around the town square, which is conveniently abandoned save for himself and the exorcist. Nearby he can hear the ominous clanking and screeching of machinery as the veritable fleet of akuma that were following the man draw closer.

For now it seems as though he has time so Cain drops gracefully from his perch upon a nearby stone gargoyle and clears the distance between himself and the man in a few bounds. He crouches, balancing himself on the balls of his feet and resting his elbows on his knees. Once comfortable in his position he cocks his head to the side in a manner reminiscent of a bird, and simply observes.

Perspiration traces the lines and inconsistencies of the man's face and his grey speckled black hair clings to his pale skin. All in all the man presents a sickly vodagr and even as Cain watches the pentagrams on the exorcist's skin become darker and clearer. Seeing the symbols up close for the first time Cain Is unable to deny the foreboding appearance of the symbols etched into the man's skin.

"W-who..." The man stutters, feebly reaching up an arm so as to grasp at Cain's face, his fingers caressing the boys cheek. Suddenly, a brief clarity descends upon the man as his other hand rises to clutch at Cain's wrist in a concrete grip, "You n-need to r-run! Get away from he- ," The man's voice fades even as he tries to say more, tries, desperate,to force the boy to run away and escape. In tuth all the man wants is to save one final life before his own is so cruelly snatched from him.

Cain straightens his head, lowering his eyes directly to the exorcist's and allows the contact to his face and wrist for a minute more - ever mindful of the approaching danger.

However, Cain's mind itself is elsewhere and he is distracted by a singular detail, in the deep and dark recesses of his subconscious the **_itch_** returns. It becomes more vindictive as the seconds pass, clawing and spitting at the prolonged exposure to the exorcist and making his stomach churn with a mixture of abject horror and despair.

'So this is it,' he muses internally, levelling an even gaze upon the exhausted flickering of the green cross that is set, innocuous, within a leather bracelet on the man's wrist.

Innocence.

It feels vile and disgusting, as though maggots and worms are burrowing into his skin and twisting in a nauseating parody of a parade.

Easily slipping his wrist from the man's trembling grip he raises his own hand to the weapon of God, only to flinch away as the lightest of contact burns him. The so called holy weapon swells and bulges as though in protest of his presence and he gives a wordless snarl. He is the one who has to deal with the _itch_! Still, he glances at the dying man and is strangely unwilling to press an attack. It doesn't seem worth it.

He does not try to touch the cross again.

Cain rises, glancing absent-minded at his palm where the faint imprint of a cross remains, quickly fading, but there nonetheless.

The exorcist is trying to stand now, clutching at the concrete beneath his fingers in a desperate attempt to find leverage. His eyes when they meet Cain's are tinged with both betrayal and confusion; it is almost as though the man cannot understand why Cain is not trying to help him.

Behind the two there is a crunch and an ominous groan as the akuma finally arrive and Cain turns abruptly, as though to greet the abominations. They stare back at him with soulless eyes and it is then that he makes his decision.

He does not need secrecy or any manner of trick this time, he can see it clearly.

He then proceeds to walk calmly past the akuma, uncaring in the face of their artillery and, as he predicted, not a single one attacks him.

The innocence is their priority.

He pauses as he reaches the end of the square and cannot deny the satisfaction brought to him by the sight of an akuma holding the innocence with a grip of derision and throwing it carelessly through a portal of black.

He knows, somehow, that the material will be destroyed and the thought brings to him a spark of unfamiliar joy.

( At 18 Cain walks forward, leaving bloodthirsty monsters and a broken shell of a man behind him without a second thought )


	12. Story Time Part Two

" Cain was facing quite the predicament.

Nine years had passed of the allotted ten he and his brother has given themselves until they presented their offerings before God.

Unfortunately for Cain there had been a vicious spell of bad weather each and every year and always within the time slot he had dedicated toward a harvest!

For the first two years there has been storms and all of his crops and blown away with the wind.

For the third year there had been a heat wave and all of his fruits had shriveled into unnatural and inedible forms.

For the fourth and fifth year there has been monsoons and all of his harvest had been waterlogged and in no way salvageable.

On the sixth year a wildfire had trekked across the carefully cultivated land and he had been left only with fading ashes.

For the seventh year his crops refused to grow and then an earthquake had forced him to relocate his crops and therefore receive nothing. The eighth year had had him find that the new land was also prone to unnatural weather as a storm has swept across it on the very day he planned to harvest.

This year, this last year was his very last chance. He couldn't even use the produce he had gathered from the forest as it had been stolen each year, leaving only three hide and a single bowl of berries for him.

For a moment Cain contemplated giving up, asking his brother for help, but no! He was the older sibling and he had bothered his brother enough with the abnormal weather that he often experience, he himself would face his penalty for breaking a promise he had made with God - as was his due.

Soon the day that the brothers had arranged to give their lord their gifts arrived.

Their lord rested in a nearby field and the two brothers approached together.

Behind him Abel dragged a large cart that he had made himself, filled with all manner of animal produce.

Next to his brother Cain dragged his feet, his head lowered in perceived defeat and a grown marrying his face. On his back he carried a simple large palm leaf, secured within were all of his offerings to his lord. He recognised their meagre nature and was disappointed in himself, guilty with his apparent failure to provide for the one being he cared for the most, next to his brother of course.

Soon they reached their destination and the Lord looked with favor upon Abel and his offering. But on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor. So Cain was very angry - because he had tried, tried so very hard, would no one acknowledge that? - and his face was downcast.

Then, suddenly, the Lord said to Cain, [ **"Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it."** ]

Cain was confused, he did not understand what his lord was asking of him. But Abel did, and so Abel stepped back, squaring his shoulders as he did so,

[ **"Cain, let's go out to the fields,"** ]

And Cain followed whilst God simply watched on.


	13. Chapter 11

( A boy a woman and a monster take center stage )

The words are drawn from the lips of a monster and coated in a thick layer of sin that seems to permeate the atmosphere surrounding the three.

The monster himself balances upon an impressive and imposing gravestone that is wider than Cain is tall.

Cain is stood nearby, casually leaning against another far more dilapidated gravestone, his figure hidden by creeping insidious shadows. The hands that reside in his pockets secretly fiddling with a few of his smaller, more inconspicuous knives.

( The third member of their performance is a woman looking to be in her early twenties who remains unknowing to his presence, so wrapped up in her own indecision that she is )

He is not outright fearful of this creature, of this man, how can he be after seeing his face in his dreams for as long as he can remember? He knows every line of that face, sometimes better than he knows his own features.

Nevertheless, he is undeniably suspicious of this, seemingly, supernatural entity that stands before him whispering tales of forgotten promises and unreachable dreams into the young woman's ears. The knives are simply a comfort, a coping mechanism if you will.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

( Their audience stirs uncomfortably from where they lay, beneath mud, memories and rot. They are fearful of the being with the impossible smile. He is dangerous )

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

All too soon, but not soon enough, the performance reaches its climax as the woman bows her head in acquiescence to the man in the white suit. Proof of the woman's foolish and misguided faith in the monster is crystallized into the strands of history forevermore with the simple utterance of a name.

The name of her dearly beloved and recently deceased lover, to be exact.

The wooden contraption that the name is promptly etched onto looms ominous and sinister before them, an unwanted atramentous ink blot upon otherwise pristine parchment.

There is a sense of wrongness around the doll that seems sink into Cain's blood and dig sharp claws into his stomach, leaving him feeling nauseas. The feeling is unfortunately rather familiar and so, as much as he wants to be, Cain is not overtly surprised when the puppet lurches forward, blade like arm already raised in preparation, toward the woman who had quite literally sold her soul.

 _No_ that's not quite true, Cain muses as he closes his eyes and tries to block out the sounds of the woman's shrill screams and the relentless, desperate begging of the seemingly unwilling but unstoppable contraption.

It wasn't the woman's soul that had been sold. _It was her lover's_.

In trying to retrieve the one she adored from death the woman had instead cursed him to exist in permanent torture. Cursed him to kill that of which he had died for not a week previously.

Oh how fickle is fate.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

( Within the stands the audience stills, falling silent in the face of travesty and recognising within the female's eyes the cold realisation brought about only by the frigid embrace, death )

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Opening his eyes Cain is greeted by the suspicious absence of a certain wooden puppet.

His confusion is soon aleviated as a single glance at where the woman is climbing to her feet brings startling clarity.

An akuma has been created of the man's soul which now resides in the woman's body, which means, his eyes turn to the monster as realisation dawns.

" Millennium Earl, "

( A boy a woman and a monster bow to their audience before exiting stage left )


	14. Outside Influences Passage One

_Allen Walker 01_

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

Life with Marion Cross isn't fun.

Not by the long shot.

In fact, referring to it as hell would be far more apt, in Allen's completely and utterly _unbiased_ opinion. The man is a slave-driver and a monster, an evil demon disguised in a feeble disguise of human flesh, a malicious apparition with the sole purpose of making Allen's life a living nightmare.

But life with Marion Cross is safe ( relatively ) .

Although the man has not actually put himself out to teach him much, preferring the ' if you make a mistake now and almost die you won't make the mistake again ' approach, he has explained the basics. Allen now knows of Akuma, of innocence and even has some idea of the subtle intricacies and politics that make up the infamous black order.

Of course, Allen has a preexisting advantage.

He was born as freak, who became boy, who became Red and eventually grew to what he is now, Allen.

It is undeniable that before a certain mad clown, who swept in with his unconditional love and affection, Allen had _survived_ , not _lived_. But it's thanks to his roots, thanks to his former occupation as a London street rat that he knows the rules of the world - _dog eat dog if you will_ \- and so he understands Cross's methods - in all of their simplistically brutal reality - but that doesn't mean he has likes them.

This, if for nothing else, is why when Cross announces he is going to the brothel, or his latest conquest's residence, Allen simply _nods_. Where others may have run away bemoaning of their master's sick ways, or given up assuming they would never learn anything Allen _stays_. When Cross leaves mid battle with an oveepowerwd level two akuma pleading boredom of all things; Allen remains silent, even as he pushes himself to move faster, to hit harder, think smarter.

Even as he pushes himself to survive.

In a way, this newfound independence from any form of responsible adult influence is liberating.

He enjoys it.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

Contrary to what others may believe Allen does not refer to Cross as 'master' because of their teacher student relationship. It's not even out of respect to be perfectly honest.

For Allen Walker 'Master' is a term of acknowledgement.

He is acknowledging his mentor's strength in both will and overall power. He is actually acknowledging and exampling his own admiration of the man, for all the faults he has, in one simple title.

Allen doesn't know whether or not his master understands the thought process behind the term he adresses him by.

He likes to think Cross knows.

 **XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

The gaping wound left from Mana's death and subsequent, if brief, re-animation is raw and aching. The words born of his foster father's second death are etched upon his heart, each word carved with needle precision and burning with cool realisation. Allen knows death and he hates it. The finality and the fact that sometimes you can't say goodbye.

Sometimes living with the reminders of what you have brought about is the true curse.

As such, for lack of anything better to do and in respect for the man who offered him a second option - even when he didn't, and still doesn't, deserve it.

Allen Walker keeps on walking.


End file.
